Willing and Able
by CycloneT
Summary: He was her helpless prisoner whenever she looked at him, and she didn’t even know it. Prentiss/Morgan


Title: Willing and Able

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Not mine, not yours. Enough said.

Summary: He was her helpless prisoner whenever she looked at him, and she didn't even know it.

XxX

Emily Prentiss had the longest eyelashes Derek Morgan had ever seen. They'd crept into his psyche; no matter where he was or what he was doing, he couldn't stop thinking about them. It was such a strange thing to focus on. He was surprised that of all her physical qualities – and she had quite a few that in other women would hit all his buttons – it was something as inconsequential as eyelashes that were his undoing.

As a purely objective observer, he could appreciate the way her glossy dark hair (that smelled faintly of roses) tumbled past her shoulders, her shapely legs that went on forever and left a man wondering exactly where they stopped, and her flawless skin that he longed to lick just to see if it tasted as good as it looked.

Okay, so he wasn't so objective after all.

But that wasn't entirely his fault. She goaded him with a figure that insisted he watch it as it entered and exited a room (and, if he was honest with himself, commanded his attention for all the moments in between as well), a tiny dimple on her right cheek that came out of hiding whenever she was amused, and a bust line that constantly tempted his focus down instead of to her eyes, which just happened to be the most amazingly expressive windows he'd ever seen. That was why, he supposed, that he had noticed her eyelashes in the first place. Those eyes of hers beckoned him with a private dance that was just for him, and her long, soft lashes caged him until he quite forgot about her physical attributes and was content to just be held by her gaze. He was her helpless prisoner whenever she looked at him, and she didn't even know it.

Or maybe she did, because she was a smart woman and had to know how she effected men. _That_ left a sour taste in his mouth. He was content to watch her and be encircled by the warmth she radiated, but if she knew that he was fostering _those_ kinds of thoughts about her, well, then . . .

"What?" she asked, interrupting his reverie and catching him out on the plane ride back to Virginia.

"Nothing," he replied, smiling.

Her face lit up in response and she put her book down. "No, seriously. What? Do I have something caught in my teeth?"

"No, your teeth are fine."

"Then why are you staring at me?"

A quick look around the plane told him that no one was interested in their conversation, so he decided to play a little. "A man can't take the time out of his busy schedule to appreciate the view every once in a while?"

Emily laughed. It was an enchanting, engaging sound that made him laugh along with her. "Is that what they're calling it now? When did 'ogling' lose its descriptive appeal?"

Derek shifted so that his body was angled closer to hers. "Does it bother you?"

"Answering a question with a question. Interesting."

"Avoiding the question with an observation. Curious."

"You know," she pointed out, "we could go around in circles all day."

"We could. So you should save us a bit of time and answer the question."

"I believe that I asked you first," she retorted.

"That you did. Okay then, yes. I was _appreciating_ the view. I do not _ogle_."

"Sure you don't," she said in a tone that expressed disbelief. "But you have the whole sky out there. I'm sure that's more appealing than me."

"I beg to differ. The view out there doesn't even begin to compare to the view in here."

"Smooth talker."

"Just calling it as I see it."

Emily's smile faded. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, puzzled.

"Are you playing me?"

"No. I'd never do that to you."

"Then what –"

"I don't know. All I know is that I'm on a plane with a beautiful woman who's flirting with me, and I like it."

She relaxed a little. "You started it."

"Maybe. But you still haven't answered my question."

She didn't even have to pretend to think about it. "No, it doesn't bother me. As long as you're appreciating and not ogling."

"Oh, I'm definitely appreciating. And if it doesn't bother you I think I'll just sit here and appreciate some more."

"Fine with me."

"You always have to get the last word in?"

"When I'm this off balance, yes," she admitted.

"I thought you said you were fine with it," he said concerned that he was making her uncomfortable.

"I said it didn't bother me, and it doesn't. It just . . . when a hot man is very obviously paying me attention and I'm not quite sure how to respond, I get a little rattled. And I babble. And can't stop," she added. "Hence the babbling."

Derek grinned. "You think I'm hot?"

"Oh please. You know you're a stud."

"Stud? You've been spending too much time around Garcia."

"I think she refers to you more as a god. A studly god," Emily added for good measure.

"So many inappropriate lines are running through my head right now."

"Like what?"

"Oh no, I'm not going there. I know you know how to use that gun you've got clipped to your belt."

She laughed. "Is that why you don't date women with guns? Scared they might use force if you step out of line?"

"How did you know about that?"

"A little blonde bird told me."

"I should have known. But if you promise not to shoot me, I might make an exception to that rule."

"Hmmm, now that begs the question. Why would I want to shoot you? There are the obvious reasons of course; jealousy, betrayal, but I don't think you're the kind of man who would cheat on the woman you're with."

"I'm not."

"So again, why would I want to shoot you? Maybe you only made that rule because you're intimidated by strong women."

"Baby," he said, lowering his voice until it was deep and husky, "I adore strong women. They're feisty."

"Baby?" she asked, with a tilt of her brow.

"You heard me," he smirked.

"And you're not playing me. Riiight. You forget, I've heard you say that to scores of lovesick women. It won't work on me."

"Are you lovesick, Emily?"

"Ha!" she scoffed. "In your dreams maybe."

"In my dreams you're something else entirely," he said seriously, surprising himself with his honesty.

She didn't respond and for a moment he thought he'd gone too far. "Prentiss?"

"What happened to 'Emily'?" she mused.

"I don't know," he said softly, "What did happen to her?"

"She had the uncomfortable feeling that you were laughing at her, and she didn't like it."

"Why would she feel that?"

"This has been fun, Derek, don't get me wrong. But for a moment there she . . . I . . . thought that we were heading down a road that we probably shouldn't, but she . . . I . . . was curious to see where that might lead us." Emily paused.

"But then," Derek prompted.

"Then I realised who I was talking to. You probably flirt in your sleep. And you certainly don't dream about me."

"How do you know what, or who, I dream about?"

"Please. I'm _so_ not your type."

"You don't even know my type," he protested.

She rolled her eyes. "I've seen you out with your type."

"You've seen me with different women. None of them were long term partners. Hell, none of them were _partners_. They were just. . . there for a night. They knew I wasn't interested in anything more."

"And now?"

"And now I'm beginning to see what I'm missing out on."

"Just like that?"

"No, not just like that. It's been a long time coming. But it's not something that I want to jump head first into. Especially when the woman I want is unavailable."

"Why is she unavailable?" Emily asked softly.

"Because I work with her. Because she's a good friend. Because I'm sure that there are fraternization rules that would apply to this situation. Never mind that I break them in my mind every time I look at her. Because despite all that, I'd be willing to take a chance on her if I thought for even a minute that she'd be willing to take a chance on me."

"If she were? What would you do then?"

"I'd ask her out to dinner so that we could talk about things more privately. And I'd make sure she knew that I wasn't playing around; that I was ready to take things to the next level."

"Why should she believe you?"

"Because I wouldn't screw up what we already have with nonsense."

Emily nodded once, and picked up her book. "You should probably ask her out before we land," she said. "That's if she's on this plane, of course."

"Good advice," he replied. "I will."

"Good," she smiled, and turned her attention back to her book.

"Hey, Em?"

"Yes?"

"You have the longest eyelashes I've ever seen."

She looked puzzled when she replied, "Oookay."

"They're beautiful. In fact, they're so beautiful that I'd like to take them out to dinner. What do you say?"

"Well," she pretended to think about it, "I think that would be okay. I mean, I'd have to come along as well since, you know, we're attached and all. But if you're willing to overlook that then you've got yourself a date."

Derek's grin lit up the plane. "Willing and able, Prentiss, willing and able."

End.


End file.
